Obstacles
by CharlieMichelle
Summary: Life was far from easy and time only seemed to make things worse, however some things? Some things were simply meant to be. Dialogue prompt, Royai, pre-series, character interpretations. Rating as T though some sensitive language and imagery throughout.


**A/N: Let me start by saying that this piece was supposed to be a short little drabble with the dialogue prompt of: ****"That's your problem! You think you don't deserve good things so you ruin them." Almost two months later we have a whopping 16,000 words (give or take 50). I'm very proud of the direction this piece took, but lord am I sick of it! Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this little persepctive piece on the history of our favorite Colonel and his Lieutenant. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or its characters/plot.**

* * *

_"Let's say sunshine for everyone, but as far as I can remember we've been migratory animals living under changing weather."_

* * *

When he first met her, he thought she was timid. He thought she was tiny and childlike and in some weird way he thought she was pretty. Her short, choppy blonde hair wasn't overly dirty like most children, but it wasn't properly cleaned either like most of the young girls he knew. Her brown eyes were always glued to him, it unnerved him. At first, he had spent the early days of his studies taunting her for finding him so handsome, but she remained silent. She had never outwardly responded, never batted an eye or blushed. After a month of this silence, she asked him what he would like for dinner for the upcoming week. Her voice was soft and delicate and sounded nothing like the child she resembled. He told her he wasn't picky. She seemed disgruntled as she walked away.

She made them a chicken and vegetable combo for the week. It was bland with little flavor, but the soup she had put together from the leftovers was wonderful. He told her so. She nodded then asked what he would like for the following week. He couldn't bring himself to be honest, so he had again given her free reign. This time as she had walked away, she rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. For two months they ate bland food at every meal, but if she wasn't complaining he vowed he wouldn't. His teacher never commented on the meals, but truthfully his teacher never ate with them, so it was possible that he prepared himself other meals. At the end of the second month when she had again asked what he would like to eat and he had again left it up to her she crossed her arms and said, "You have to tell me what you like Mr. Mustang, otherwise we'll be eating like this the entire time you're here."

He had been stunned and didn't reply quickly enough for her and he watched as she huffed and stomped away. That week the food wasn't bland, in fact, they ate well. Loaves of bread, portions of pasta, chicken, and beef. The vegetables were fresh and there was a variety. It was the first decent meal he had eaten since arriving at the Hawkeye residence! It had been so good in fact that he had to ruin the meal by asking who had prepared the dishes all week. If perhaps the housekeeper had returned or if she was sick when he arrived, or perhaps his teachers' wife had made it home early from her trip.

"My mother is dead."

_Way to go_; thought the young man. Until this point the young Miss. Hawkeye had never really taken the time to notice anything about Mr. Mustang. He was closer to her age, she supposed, she hadn't really known any other children. The kids in the village made it known she wasn't welcomed, and she hardly had time for their games of make-believe. He had dark hair and eyes, he always greeted her with a smile or joke. Though she much preferred his face when he had his eyes glued to a book her father gave him. He had long fingers and she wasn't sure why or how she came to notice that, but she had. He was lanky and tall. He was a flirt and probably indecent. He had gone into town once, _once _and he still had young ladies looking for him.

She looked up from her spot at the sink and stared out the window, she had assumed that after her brisk response (and she would never admit she was insulted by his backhanded compliment to the chef) he had returned to his studies. After all, Papa only gave his student an hour for his evening meal. She winced when she felt Mr. Mustang against her side, he had brought over the rest of the dirty dishes in her silence. He reeked of pity and guilt and understanding, and it almost made her consider apologizing for her rudeness. Her father had always expected better of her. She was too much of a coward. She couldn't even make eye contact with the boy next to her that still had thirty-two minutes left to himself for the evening before his curfew and still he stood next to her with an old ratty towel in his hand, ready to dry the dishes she finished washing.

"I'm sorry, your fath-" he cut himself off quickly when he noticed her side glance, it was ice cold, kind of like the temperature of the house at all times, "... I was told that Mrs. Hawkeye was on a prolonged stay with family. I assumed you returned early for school."

"I don't attend school; my father believes everything I need to learn is here within the house." He was pleased she answered him, troubled by her response and found himself forming a dozen more questions for her. "You really don't have to help me, you only have so much time to yourself. Bethany, the farmers' daughter on the edge of town, says hello."

"Who?"

"Bethany… the strawberry blonde that helps old Mr. Huntsberger." She explained it so simply that he had to chuckle. She interpreted that as something else entirely. "I see you know exactly who I'm referencing."

"Oh, don't be like that, I was laughing at something else." She tried to turn away from him, but he saw the blush that spread across her cheeks and he couldn't help but tease her. "Now, now there's no need to be jealous, Bethany was just a… a fling."

"I'm not jealous Mr. Mustang, I'm just finished with my duties in the kitchen and would like to finish the side yard before it gets dark."

"It's Roy," she stopped, but she wouldn't allow herself to turn around, "my name is Roy Miss. Hawkeye."

"Riza, it's only fair that you know my name. Goodnight."

She hadn't said his name that night. In fact, by the time she had finally warmed up to using his first name her father had overheard. There was hell to pay that evening. Roy listened through the door in the hall. His evening session was canceled after his brief conversation with the head of the Hawkeye house, "My daughter is not some girl from the town square you can sweet talk Mustang, she will never be one of those girls."

"Yes, sir."

"Go get my daughter, I need to discuss her place in this household." Roy hadn't moved fast enough for his teacher and for that he had paid at the expense of his eardrums. "I dismissed you boy! Go get _Riza_ this instant!"

She had been standing with her back against the wall just to the left of the door. She looked disappointed. She hadn't said anything as she briskly entered her fathers' study and shut the door behind her. It wasn't slammed shut, like Roy would have done had the roles been reversed. He took up her spot against the wall. Berthold Hawkeye did not hold back on his daughter. He raged and yelled and carried on and there were moments when Roy would flinch from the outside and could only wonder how Riza had held up. Then he heard the one phrase he was already so used to; "He does not deserve to know you Riza."

There was profound silence after that. It echoed through the room, between father and daughter. It echoed through the hall, where Roy stood with his fists clenched. It echoed through the dark and cold kitchen. It echoed back to the only three residents in the dark two-story home. Riza, who would normally back down once her father came down from one of his rampages and apologize before she quietly slipped away into the silence -just like her mother had but, instead stood her ground.

"You're wrong."

Berthold was taken back, so much so that he fell into his seat behind his grandfathers' mahogany desk; "What did you just say?"

"I said you're wrong."

He chuckled darkly, but Riza wouldn't back down. She had never had a single friend before, she had been alone since her mother died and she wouldn't back down. "It would be in your best interest to stop right there young lady. Remember who you're talking to."

"Papa, if you would just listen! It's just a friendly exchange of names!"

"You will regard me with respect!" Riza flinched when he launched from his seat to slam his hands onto his desk. "You _will not _stoop to the level of those _commoners_ that surround you. You will mind your tongue and your body when around Mr. Mustang."

Riza responded to the offense without thinking; "Papa, it's not like that at all!"

"Stop with that ridiculous name! It's time you grew up Riza and learn your place." She tried to mask the hurt that she felt, she had always regarded him with the affectionate term. It was the only thing she had left to hang onto from simpler and happier times. She was forced to admit, while her father railed against her and listed all the additional responsibilities she would have, that he hadn't been her father in a long time. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes Pa-" she stopped at his glare and twitch of his left hand, "... yes Father, I understand and I'm sorry to have disrespected you."

She was dismissed moments after her apology. She had been given false praise for her obedience and understanding. She stepped out of his study and had hoped to see Roy in the hall, but he was not there. She felt it wasn't the best idea to go to his room, though she wanted to. Instead, she retired in her own room. And again, the silence of the house echoed… through the halls, through the rooms and through the people that resided in them. The next day, Riza had started early. She wanted to be done with her outdoor responsibilities before the sun reached its full strength. As normal, Roy and her father had started their training just before Riza began her work. She hadn't seen him until dinner, she greeted him with a smile.

"Good evening Roy, are you hungry?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly, he wasn't used to taking the high road in these situations. He had to do something though, Riza was all Berthold Hawkeye had left, though more importantly, he was all that she had left. Roy? Roy was temporary, he would leave once his apprenticeship was finished. He'd take the knowledge passed down to him and do good with it and would never look back to this old dingy and cold home. In one of his boyhood fantasies, he imagined taking Riza away from that place and the town that clearly didn't understand. However, those were just fantasies and he realized that her place was right where she was.

"Actually, Miss. Hawkeye, I'll be taking my evening meals with your father upstairs from here on out." He felt his heart contract oddly in his chest at the look that crossed her face. That look of understanding and of hurt. The look of loneliness and acceptance. All of it at once flashed through her eyes and then there was nothing.

"Of course, Mr. Mustang, I'll be sure to leave a tray for you both by the door once dinner is prepared. Once you and my father are finished you can leave the trays in the hallway."

* * *

The silence stretched for four more years. Though tensions between the two teens were lessened, as Berthold got more and more into his research, he spent less time worrying about how his daughter and student regarded each other. They had awkwardly talked about that night and the days following and though it pained them both to admit, they knew that it was just their age that prevented them from using their common sense. There were boundaries between them and as it stood Roy turned out exactly as his teacher surmised. He was flirtatious and indecent and in a normal setting, all of that would be perfectly acceptable, except with Berthold it wasn't.

"You're almost done your training and you still have yet to convince me that you're capable of handling my research."

Roy bit the inside of his cheek, it stopped him from saying something he'd regret. "What would you like me to do?"

Berthold scoffed; "Boy, this isn't a test. There is no right or wrong, you're either it or you aren't. Right now, I'm seeing that you aren't and that this was a waste of time."

"Sir, with all due respect, I've surpassed your standards for the science of alchemy. You've said so yourself! I'm merely curious as to what I'm missing so I can carry on your legacy."

"My legacy? Do you think that the art of flame alchemy is a legacy to be carried over lightly? Are you aware of the incredible power you'd have? Of the responsibility, everything that comes with my research is far beyond your reach as it stands Mr. Mustang."

"All of which I understand, but how can you tell me my training is almost finished and complete without your research?" Roy, who thought he had a standing argument against his teacher was shocked when said teacher did nothing but chuckle darkly.

"Boy, if you think humping a slut in the dark alleys of the town and slacking on your duties here is going to convince me that you are_ worthy_ of my research, I would love to give you a wakeup call." Roy fought the urge to roll his eyes, Berthold could tell, "I won't be releasing this research to anyone, especially the likes of a punk like you. Now if you clean your act up before your apprenticeship ends, we could have a different discussion. It's time for Rizas' studies, send her in on your way out."

For the rest of the day, the disgruntled teenage boy was in the yard. It was nearing the end of his final summer at the Hawkeye residence and one of his duties included preparing the firewood for the winter. Roy found the chore therapeutic, the consistent thump of the ax into the spike that would split the chunks of wood matched the thump at the base of his skull. He heard the chuckle of his summer fling, Amelia, as she approached him from the side yard.

"Have I ever told you how great you look chopping wood?"

Her soft dirty-blonde hair had a gentle natural curl to it and her dress was a pretty shade of light blue. She had the curves of a woman, but Roy had to admit her ideals were childish. "Well? Have I?"

"I really can't talk right now Amelia," Roy grunted as he swung the ax up and over once more. Smooth and steady, consistent, the motion opposite of his time studying under Berthold. "I have to get this pile done before tonight."

Amelia pouted; "Oh come on Roy, you had no problem putting the work off all summer. That pile of wood will be there tomorrow, I want to take a walk."

"So, go walk, I really can't leave."

"Roy, please! I go back to school in a week, I promise we'll be back with enough time for you to finish."

Against his better judgment, Roy put the ax down, "Alright, a quick walk up the block and back."

Riza watched Roy walk out of the yard with the pretty girl from up the road. He had been doing that all summer with her and Riza knew that she had no real reason to be jealous. Roy wasn't interested, couldn't be interested in the likes of her. She was plain simpleton Riza. Girls like Amelia could go anywhere in life, marry whomever they wanted and take care of their families in the comfort of their full homes. Riza wouldn't have that, she'd be cursed to take care of her father for as long as he lived and then she'd be the problem of the state. It was why she hadn't told either man under her roof about the letter her mothers' father had sent her. He wanted her to join him for the duration of the school year, spend a year in a real school. Paid for by him of course.

Riza had never met the man, so she couldn't truly say if she was excited or not, but it wouldn't make a difference. Her father would never permit her to go. He was anti-military to the highest degree and her grandfather was a ranked officer in the State Military of Amestris. He lived in East City, another thing Berthold was firmly against, cities. She sighed outwardly over her situation and gloom. It caught the attention of her father, who immediately took offense. "Something boring you Riza?"

"No Father, I'm sorry for disrupting our studies."

For his callousness towards his daughter, Berthold still regarded as such with affection. She wasn't his prodigy -much to his disappointment, but she was smart. He was considerably impressed with her loyalty, even if it was to the Mustang boy. He also noticed that she was… unsettled. Something kept her fidgeting in her seat, sighing, and causing her attention to dissipate from her lessons. He had assumed it was just the age she had reached, changes in the body and the like, but he had (shockingly) been proven wrong when he received a telegram from his father-in-law. It appears the old dog of the military had recently reached out to Riza, against the wishes of Berthold himself, and extended an invite for his daughter to partake in a year of school on him, in East City.

Berthold was loathed to admit it, but he saw the benefit. With Riza away, it would force Roy to focus. It would give him a chance to compile the final pieces of his research and hopefully would place him back in good graces with Riza. Perhaps she'd be willing to assist him in his final studies. She had no talent or knack for alchemy, but she was practical and resourceful, he was positive he could find a use for her. She was stubborn though, like her mother and he knew she'd resent it the whole time given that he had never allowed her to do what she pleased. It was Berthold's' turn to sigh.

"I'm sorry Father, studying language arts is difficult for me if you just-"

"It's not that Riza." He realized as he stared at his daughter that she had indeed grown up. The very thing he forbade her to do as a child, but he supposed it was inevitable, much as this would be too. "I received word from your grandfather."

"Oh, and what did he want?"

"He mentioned you spending a year with him, studying in East City."

She felt her eyes widen, she could see her life flashing before her eyes too. "I'm sorry Father, I never told you. I had assumed that you would prefer me here."

"My preference is not important here, your grandfather brought forward many points that have swayed my original opinion on the invite." He watched a curious gleam sweep across her eyes. "If it is something you wish to do, I could allow you to attend a year and if you do well enough your grandfather and I could perhaps discuss the possibility of you studying there for the remainder of your education."

Riza stared, this man before she was the man she remembered as her father. The brisk tone of a conversation, but the consideration of what's best for her… something that he appeared to have forgotten over the years. She felt herself nod, too choked up to say anything. It was at that moment she noticed his white linen handkerchief on the ground by his desk, it was soiled with deep rust like stains. She had to hide her questioning glance from him, she feared he'd revoke his offer if she pressed. She relished the soft smile he sent her, but she was dismissed with a wet, choking cough. She felt her stomach drop.

When Roy returned from his walk with Amelia, a walk that had turned sour as Roy had essentially broken her heart, he found Riza sitting on the front porch of the house. She was staring at a letter in her hand, but Roy could tell from the way she clenched the paper she wasn't happy. She looked up as he sat down in the chair next to hers. They remained silent. It was peaceful to watch the sunset in silence and he felt some of her stress melt away as it got progressively darker.

"You'll have to get up extra early to catch up on the wood."

Roy smirked; "True, but I had to handle Amelia."

"Ah… let me guess she flipped her skirt when she found you chopping wood? Every small-town girl's dream. A young man that shows sign of being able to provide for her."

"Hah," Roy glared at his companion, he knew she was teasing but there was a small part of what she said that held true. That was exactly what Amelia had wanted. To reassure him that she'd return from school and could pick back up where they left off. That by this time next year he'll be finished with his schooling and would be free to start his life… with her. That was not what Roy wanted, Roy didn't even know what he wanted… just that he wanted to make a difference. "Actually, I broke up with her."

"Really? So, you could pursue her friend while she's away at school?"

"You know me so well Riza." He laughed, but Riza could see the truth. Roy Mustang was temporary to her little town. No girl was going to change that. "What has you sitting out here and not in the kitchen?"

She handed him the letter and let him read it. When he looked up, she beat him to the punch; "I can't leave, even if my father gave me his permission and blessing to do so, I can't."

"Riza, this is an incredible opportunity! You have to."

"You wouldn't understand."

Roy let out a snort; "Try me."

"My father is dying." Riza met Roy's dark eyes, he hadn't seemed shocked by her exclamation. "How long have you known?"

"I found some blood on a napkin after one of his fits."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"I didn't want him to know I saw! It could be a passing virus."

Riza rolled her eyes; "Don't be dense, he's always been sickly. Ever since my mother died." Roy passed the letter back to her, he didn't want to press her, but he thought she should go. It would be incredible to watch her flourish, he knew she could, but he also knew her loyalty ran deeper than a girl's wild dream. "He wasn't pleased about me spending time with my grandfather…"

"Who cares? He's your grandfather."

"He's a dog of the military." She replied with an eye-roll, then she sighed and folded up the letter, "It would please my father more to know that I've chosen to stay here and study under him."

Roy didn't say anything. It appeared that he could never find the right words to say when they mattered. As the sun finally set and the cooler air swept in the two young teens made their way back into the house. It had never quite been home, but it had shaped them thus far and neither could tell if it was good or bad. Perhaps it was neither.

* * *

There had been yelling, all day long there was yelling. Riza sat at the old rickety kitchen table with her head on her crossed arms. It felt like her brain had throbbed against her skull for hours. Her throat was scratchy from her own bout of yelling. Her mother would frown at her behavior, "A lady mustn't raise her voice." she could hear the scolding in her distant memory and almost wanted to smile. Then she heard glass breaking against a wall and the smile was gone. Her body felt heavy and achy, but she wasn't sick. She picked her head up when she heard the thumps of feet as they raced down the stairs and came barreling in towards her.

"He's stubborn and unreasonable! I can't believe him!" She was thankful it was Roy that had entered the kitchen and not her father, she wouldn't have known how to handle Berthold in his current state. "Can't he see that I want to make a difference?"

"Roy…"

"He's so set in his old ways; the military is not a bad option for someone like me!" He raged on as he paced back and forth, his left hand was waving around in his agitation while his right hand went between yanking at his hair to stuffed in his pocket. "My apprenticeship is up, and I have nothing to show of it!"

"That's not true, you've learned more than enough about alchemy to-"

"To what? It wouldn't set me apart from anyone else taking the State Alchemist exam and frankly, that's the only thing I want to do." He stopped pacing, let out a drawn-out sigh and then sat down across from his only real friend in the world. "He's spent years perfecting his research to pass it down to someone, but he refuses to give it to me, so what was all of this for?"

Riza daintily shrugged; "I don't know, I wasn't into alchemy growing up, I have no idea what he was looking for."

"Well, he's running out of time."

"There's no need to snap at me Roy, I'm on your side remember? I'd love if he could pass his knowledge on and live the rest of his life in peace, but he's been obsessive over this my whole life." Roy sighed again and rubbed at his face, it had been an exhausting day. "Do you really have to go?"

Roy laughed, it wasn't his teasing laugh or the happy laughter Riza had grown accustomed to hearing. This time it sounded almost crazed. "I want to make a difference in people's lives, not sit in my study and neglect my family obsessing over what I could have done."

Riza wished for that as well, "When do you leave?" and she held her breath in anticipation.

"I guess tonight, I doubt he'll let me stay here now that he knows my intentions."

"Will you write?"

"Of course, I won't forget about you here."

Riza smiled softly, she opted to prepare a meal that Roy could take with him. There was a heavy silence in the air around them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Roy was anxiously thinking of his future. He was full of excitement at the prospect of being able to do something good for everyday people -like Riza. He was appreciative for everything that Berthold had taught him, but he strived for more. His teacher wasn't ready to let go of his secrets just yet and ultimately Roy could respect that, but he couldn't wait around forever.

As Riza finished packing his meal up she hummed softly to herself, a tune she recalled upon vaguely. She hummed whenever she was distressed, not that she was aware of it, but part of her couldn't help but be relieved that Roy Mustang was finally leaving the Hawkeye residence. She was relieved that she would no longer be on edge on his departure. She knew that this day would come, she had dreaded and hoped for it for a long time. She continued to hum as she watched Roy hustle down the road towards the train station, the same dirty bag on his shoulder that he arrived with, his free hand in the air in a friendly wave towards her. She prayed he'd never look back.

In the weeks that followed tensions in the Hawkeye residence were high. Berthold had almost never left his study, crazed at finishing his life works. His fits had gotten stronger since Roys' departure. Riza could hear him wherever she was in the house as he coughed up what she would assume was more blood. He no longer attempted to hide his ailment from her, instead, he let her collect his dirtied handkerchiefs for her to clean. When he had fallen asleep at his desk at night she would sneak into his office and clean up what she could, she never dared touch him. In his sickness, he'd gotten less predictable and there had been more than a couple of times that he'd lashed out at Riza when she startled him.

The silence of the house could engulf her. There was hardly a reason for her to leave, now that her father had officially failed to maintain his status as a state alchemist, they no longer received money from the state. Riza did what she could, she'd assist Mrs. Schwartz down the road for enough money to buy the essentials of bread, broth, and eggs. Though her interactions with the kids she used to loathe had changed drastically (thanks to Roy). She found the girls more enjoyable to be around, or perhaps it was the loneliness that finally got to her.

As weeks turned into months Riza looked more and more forward to the routine letters from Roy. He told her everything about his time at the academy in training. He'd made new friends and companions, he left a lasting impression on his commanding officers and instructors. Everything he was told he wasn't by Berthold he had been and Riza was proud that Roy could finally see that. He told her of his conquests too, it appeared he was quite popular with the ladies in his advanced training unit.

He always asked how she was, and she'd always lie. There was no need for him to concern himself with the happenings of her dead-end town. She hoped he would read her letters and release some of the guilt she knew he held on to. It was never his responsibility to change the way her life would go. She never really had a chance, that was how things worked in life. Riza was practical and always had been, but that didn't stop her from trying to see the good in every situation. Perhaps life was dismissal under the same roof as Berthold Hawkeye, but eventually, she'd have to be under a roof of her own. So, she'd tell Roy that, every chance she had. She even mentioned the town boy, Wolfgang, that had taken an interest in her.

Wolfgang was a hard worker in the fields, he was polite and sweet. Berthold had given Riza permission to see him informally a couple of times and he'd never disrespected her. He wasn't the best looking with his sun-kissed skin and green eyes, his hair was usually greasy, but Riza could look past all of that. He made her laugh and called her pretty. Roy had other thoughts on this interaction. He never liked Wolfgang, always said he was a snake in disguise. Riza would just laugh it off. After all, it wasn't Roy's decision or life. And then more months went by and Wolfgang had gotten what he wanted from Riza and it stung that she fell for it, but such was life. The experience was enough to make her feel normal for just a moment.

She never told Roy that, though he suspected something had to have happened when her letters suddenly stopped mentioning the slimy oaf. At exactly twelve months and thirteen days after Roy had left for his new life, Riza received a letter that changed almost everything. He talked of war with the Ishvalan people, how talks of peace weren't going well. He admitted to being scared and unprepared to jump head first into a war. Though Riza reassured him that they wouldn't dump into it without proper training and at that moment it was simply talked about. She told him how recently she started receiving letters from her grandfather, it had turned out that Berthold was more concerned for his daughters' future than he let on. His illness was spreading fast and he had reached out to Grumman in hopes that he'd provide for his granddaughter when the time comes.

Sixteen months after Roy had left and joined the Amestrian State Military they had officially declared war on the Ishvalan people. Grumman had broken the news to Riza that things were about to get much harder on the everyday people. War was not kind to the poor. Though one light in the darkness had been the news that Roy and his squadron were not going to be trained or sent to combat. They would remain at their posts until further notice. As it appeared, according to Roy, the military was positive this conflict would be resolved shortly. With everything happening she hadn't felt the need to mention the rapid decline in her fathers' health. His weight was low, he was always pale and clammy, there was hardly ever a time he wasn't coughing or choking on blood clots from the lungs. Still, he persisted on with his work and remained in his office diligently putting together the final pieces of his studies.

"Riza!"

She startled from the book she had started to read through, then she heard it again; "Riza! Come here quick!"

She rushed up the stairs and into his study, along the way she had prepared herself to see the worst, but she had not been prepared to see her father as he stood in excitement with a smile on his face; "I've done it, my girl! I've finally done it!"

"That's wonderful Father." _Now perhaps you can rest easy for what's left of your life_, she thought to herself. Though she couldn't help but feel the same excitement that he had possessed. At that moment it had been like her Papa was back again.

"There's just one last thing that needs to be done and I'll need your help to do it."

"My help? What could you need my help for?" She hadn't tried to mask the excitement or surprise from her voice or face. He'd never asked for her help before, he very rarely regarded her when it came to alchemy.

"I need someone to hold on to my work and to never let it fall into the wrong hands."

She felt tears prick her eyes; "I'm honored that you'd think of me for this important job."

"Yes, yes, but Riza this is one of the most important responsibilities of your life. You'll have to choose very wisely who you let into your life from here on out. You'll have to watch your back like a hawk." He said it with a smirk and a glint in his sunken eyes that just didn't seem right.

Riza squished the unease in her gut, she had waited so long for her Father to share something of importance with her. She'd sat in silence in this awkward moment, while her mind told her to move forward with caution her heart said that she was doing what was needed and expected as his daughter. It was finally her time to prove herself to him. She asked what he meant, and he started to ramble about there being no other way she knew without a doubt that the man she once called Papa so affectionately and full of love was gone.

"We'll use the kitchen, it'll have to be tonight. I'm sorry there's no time to prep but it must be done now!"

She followed her rambling father to the kitchen. She watched as he prepared the table, the same one she ate at as a child with him, he poured disinfectant soap and rubbing alcohol all over the table, she watched as it splashed to the floor. Then he motioned her over and told her to undress from her torso up. She felt her skin go clammy and bile rise to her throat, yet she stood with her back to her father with no shirt or undershirt on. The cool air of the house nipped at her skin mercilessly and she thought she saw spots swim in her vision. She remained still as he traced an intricate design all along her back, long swoops of his hand, feather touches as he hummed brightly to himself. She shivered as the time ticked by slowly and watched the sun through the small side window that surrounded their front door. By the time he finished his tracing, it was dark. He had three or four oil lamps that surrounded them to provide the proper lighting. She started to put her undershirt back on when he left the kitchen; "Don't! We're not through yet. Lay on the table, on your stomach."

She complied with her deranged fathers' orders while he rushed around upstairs looking for something. He came back with a box and some wiring, she turned her head to watch him get situated. The box had a strange looking pen that bent at ninety-degrees and a wheel that had two coils attached at the other end. There was a sharp pointed needle at the bottom of the of the pen near the grip where one would hold it and a tube that connected to a small black bottle came out of the side. It made a strong buzzing sound when it was turned on. It echoed through the house and Riza had to calm herself down, she could feel her nails bite into her skin. She vaguely heard her father ask if she was ready and her mind screamed no, but her voice spoke the opposite.

She gagged for most of the ordeal as her father crudely carved the intricate design, he had obsessed over for most of her childhood. She felt tears well in her eyes as he pressed harder along her spine to ensure he hadn't missed any part of his work. She wondered if this was payment for something she did in a past life? Perhaps this was payment for her disobedience as a child… she never should have fought with her father. She should have given him more respect. She should have tried to be the child he wanted. Did he ever really want children? She bit her lip as he went over her spine, again and again, and again. Her eyes were full of tears that she refused to let fall, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction, not that he was paying her any mind.

When the buzzing had stopped, she felt her father brush his hand through her short hair, he did so almost tenderly and heard him mumble; "That's a good girl, Papa is very proud of you." Against her will, the tears rolled along her pale and clammy cheeks.

The last letter Roy Mustang received was dated in 1903.

* * *

Roy Mustang stood out in front of the house that shaped him in his full military uniform. He had a duffle bag with one weeks' worth of clothing and necessities. He hadn't informed either resident that he was arriving -or staying. He was full of nerves. He realized upon exiting the train on the outskirts of town that it would have been in his best interest to at least attempt to reach out to the Hawkeyes'... after all it was entirely possible that the reason Riza stopped writing was that her father died, and she ended up in the system. He'd be livid if that happened. Instead, he stood at the walkway that led to the porch.

The roof had started to sag when he left a couple of years prior, but now it looked as if it would cave in any moment. The weeds were unkempt. The yard was bare, with brown spots all throughout. The front window was cracked, the one that would let the light of day shine through the dark house. He felt a lump in his throat, there was obviously no turning back at this point, though part of him desperately wanted to. Perhaps as a kid, he would have given into that notion, but as a man? He was a man of courage and honor. He wore a uniform that said so! There was no way he would turn around without the answers to his questions.

His hands trembled as he knocked on the heavy wooden door. What would he do if he hadn't gotten an answer? He would probably have to break in, but his devious plot was disrupted by the door opening as he came face to face with the same little girl that he had met those many years ago. She had a flush to her cheeks but looked pale at the same time. She wore a heavy sweater over her normal white blouse and his old trousers instead of her normal skirt. The fire that had settled in her amber eyes wasn't there, in fact, none of the fighting spirits he had grown accustomed to seeing in the small girl was there anymore. He had every intention of greeting her, with a real greeting, but instead, he blurted the first thing that popped into his mind.

"You haven't written."

Riza blinked, she couldn't place why Roy was there in front of her, "Roy…?"

"Why haven't you written?"

"Why are you here?" She countered, with outrage, because he wasn't supposed to come back to this dark and empty place. "I thought you were serving with the State Military."

"I was eligible for leave."

"So, you came here? For what?"

Roy rolled his eyes and pushed past Riza in the doorway. "I have business to discuss with your father."

She cringed outwardly at the mention of Berthold and doing her best attempted to dissuade him from disturbing the deranged man that resided upstairs. Though her protests were not heard as Roy stomped through the house. Though he had conceded that he wouldn't bombard his teacher right away -it wouldn't do with his health declining more and more rapidly. Their arguing continued into the kitchen; "It is a lost cause Roy and I'm sorry that you wasted your leave to come back here."

"I'm positive I can convince him that I'm worthy of his studies."

"Roy, he despises the State Military, the fact that you've enlisted has still left a bitter taste in his mouth." Riza stirred at the pot of soup she had been making. Roy sat at the table and watched with a smirk. The years had been good to Riza, she had a womanlier shape to her, but something wasn't right about her posture. The house was cold, so cold Roy had a chill and when he commented on this Riza simply shrugged. "It's not much, but it's all we could afford."

The house had a coating of settled dust on it like it hadn't been tended to in a long while. That didn't make sense, because Riza was a perfectionist and she hated any and all filth. She used to scold him for, what felt like, hours on the disarray of his room when he still lived there. She had a strict schedule on all her chores. She knew what needed to be done before it needed to be done. What happened from her last letter to now? Roy thought to himself, clearly, it had to be something. He hadn't had the opportunity to ask her, she stomped off to take the broth to her father and almost immediately heard the yelling of the disgruntled sickly man echo through the house. He waited at the bottom of the stairs for Riza, she looked annoyed but otherwise fine.

"When can he see me?"

"He doesn't want to see you, in fact, he told me to throw your ungrateful ass out on the streets."

Roy laughed; "You'd never do that to me Riza."

She rolled her eyes and continued towards the kitchen to work on the dishes. "I just might, why don't you go change and relax for the night and then we can work on my father tomorrow?"

She was startled when she felt two arms wrap around her from behind. Roy had never shown her any open affection like this before, it was always a pat on the head or high five. Silly jokes and meaningless flirtatious smirks. Nothing that sparked a churning in her belly or flutters in her heart, not like this had. She felt warm after feeling cold for so long and she wanted to turn around, wrap her arms around him and let out all the frustrations she's faced since he left. She was Berthold Hawkeyes' daughter and she would act it. She went to pull out of his embrace when he spoke.

"Why did you stop writing?"

"I didn't mean to…" she started, her voice was whisper soft, "I got so caught up with my fathers' illness that it's all I really focused on. Then, of course, I had to start thinking of what would happen when he eventually died and…"

"And you thought you had to handle it on your own? I'd be more than happy to help you Riza! It's the least I could do." He let her go to turn her around, but he was shocked to see the tears that pooled in her eyes. In all the time that Roy had known the Spitfire before him, he couldn't recall a single time she'd cried in front of him. Sometimes when they were young, he'd wake up to her cries in the middle of the night, but he never intruded on her. Perhaps he should have. "Hey, hey now what's this?"

She sniffled; "It's nothing, just stress."

"It looks to me like there's more going on than just stress."

Riza kept her hands over her face, over her eyes, she'd be damned if she let him see the weakness that rested there. "It's just stress Roy, it hasn't been easy since you left, but I've managed. And I'll manage again once you leave."

Roy crossed his arms over his chest, felt the crisp uniform crinkle tightly against the movement. "Well, you shouldn't have to manage all on your own! Damn it, let me help you!"

"Stop! I'm not your responsibility Roy, I never was so please just get going to your old room and relax for the evening while I finish up what I have to do!" She hated the desperation that hid in her voice, but she couldn't control it. "Please…"

Roy conceded, he didn't want to upset her more -or worse, make her angry. He asked if she was sure and when she nodded (with her eyes full of fresh tears and her teeth sinking into her bottom lip) he wished her goodnight and stalked off to the old room that used to be his. He changed and laid on the familiar lumpy bed. It appeared that his room was the most well-kept, his shelves were cleared, his books organized, his clothes he left lying around the day he left were folded and tucked away. The trinkets from past girlfriends were on the old oak dresser that he used as a student. It filled him with a sense of belonging and dread all at once. How in the hell was he going to get Berthold to listen to him? To make him see that it was his research that could put a stop to the war that raged over the better part of the last two years. He fell asleep pondering the ways he'd grovel to his teacher.

The next day was an ordeal. It started with Riza puking up what little was in her stomach and not having the energy to do much else but lay around. Roy found her in the bathroom, her body feverish and he didn't acknowledge a single argument as he carried her back to bed. She wanted to be there when Roy talked with her father, she wanted to stress to him that she knew Roy would be the only person she'd ever trust with the Flame Alchemy research. That had to mean _something_ to her father! She found herself slipping back to sleep with Roy reassuring her that everything would work out.

She woke up to the panicked yells of Roy Mustang demanding Riza call for help immediately. Her body was still warm and sluggish. Her mind was still foggy, her gut empty but nauseous all the same. "Get the Doctor Riza, hurry!"

She stumbled into her fathers' study where she watched as he continued to cough up chunks of blood and his body convulsed violently. Roy was still yelling but all she could see was the splatter of thick bright red on Roy's shirt, on the desk and as it dribbled down her father's chin. All she could smell was the rust scent that came with an open wound and all she could hear was the empty gasp of her father as he called for her. "Ri...za…" repeatedly.

"Riza, go now!"

She looked up at Roy, startled at the harsh command in his voice. She'd never known him to have such a streak of steel in his demands, though she supposed the military did that to some people. She shook her head and went to leave the room when she heard the gurgling of her name once more, but this time it sounded far more urgent. She stopped and turned towards her father as he mumbled her name. He reached for her, or maybe she imagined him reaching for her. She moved slowly across the floor to him as he spat out another fantastic amount of blood and mucus and then she heard him.

"I'm...sorry…" he coughed, he shook, he dropped his hands and his eyes glazed over and he was gone. And ice hit Riza in the chest like never before. Her eyes were wide with fear and confusion and sorrow and Roy was cursing and slamming the same desk her father would pound his fists on. Riza puked again, on the floor just feet away from her fathers' still warm corpse.

"Shit." Roy bit out as he rushed over to her, he led her to the seat against the wall of the office and directed her head down between her knees. "It's alright Riza, it's ok. I just need for you to breathe. No, no, don't look over there."

Riza had been numb to everything except the hand that brushed through her short and greasy locks. She wasn't completely convinced that her father had finally found peace through his eyes remained closed and his chest still. She had felt shame for the relief that flooded through her body, but despite all the loyalty she gave to her father throughout her young life she couldn't shake it. She finally managed to take a deep gulping breath and sat up against the wall. Roy leaned back on his heels, but his grip went from her hair to her hands.

"We should call the doctor over, get his body collected."

"Riza, we don't have to rush."

"I want it done Roy." Her eyes held fire and her voice crisp. "Please."

Roy nodded once then stood pulling her up with him. She was shaky on her feet but the spine of steel he had come to admire over the years had seemed to reform right before his eyes. She was clearly well prepared for this moment, she excused herself to change while he gathered the doctor. Roy worried the inside of his cheek the entirety of his task, thoughts of an unknown future for both swarmed his head and he continued to worry until he tasted the coppery taste of blood from his cheek. He gagged at the reminder of the mess that had to be cleaned up.

When Roy and the local doctor returned, he was dismissed, these were matters that Riza had insisted she handle on her own and he respected her for that. While Roy scrubbed at the stained wood in the upstairs study with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, Riza sat at the kitchen table with a stoic man that had little white hairs from his ears and glasses as thick as the milk bottle that rested in the fridge. He had medical documents with him and asked the most miniscule questions. At Rizas' request, he had the body removed and wrapped before they began the next step.

"I'd like to perform an autopsy on the body."

"That won't be necessary."

"My dear," the doctor started softly while he addressed the child that sat in front of him, "I know you've been put through a shock today, but an autopsy would help answer questions you'll have once you've been given the proper chance to process and grieve your loss."

Riza smiled politely; "Doctor, my father has been sick for a long time. I don't have any other questions besides my original one. When is the earliest we can bury him?"

"Well, I'm sure you'd need some time to prepare properly; reach out to family and friends-"

"No." The doctor was startled by the girls' denial, the poor girl, he thought. She was left with nobody and no financial support, another orphan in the coldness of the world. How utterly unfair, yet still she sat with dignity and confidence. "I'll only need to send out one telegram, to my grandfather. Everything will be handled from there."

What a relief, the doctor sighed, "And when can we expect your grandfather to arrive?"

"He won't," Riza remained stoic and unemotional and could see the distress in the doctors' eyes, "... my grandfather is serving in the State Military and he's worked towards quite the rank. It would be too much trouble for him to come all the way here with the conflict in Ishval still going on, but he already reassured me that when the time came, he would handle the payment for the burial.

"I'd like for the burial to be handled as quickly as possible. My father wasn't religious, so there's no need for a service to ensure his soul is in its right place. We weren't social in town, I doubt anyone would clear their schedule for a day full of false sorrow and awkward condolences. I assure you, I am ok with this being over quickly."

"Be that as it may, Miss Hawkeye, the state will have to be notified. You're a minor and with no family to claim you…"

"I'm aware of my circumstances, I am positive that my grandfather will sort it out once he's notified." I would hate to be so intrusive, was left unsaid, but the doctor could feel it. To live in a household as cold and empty as it was and to be an only child responsible for taking care of a parent -well the doctor couldn't quite imagine the strain on her shoulders. He noticed the way her hands trembled slightly as she signed over the final pieces of paperwork. She had no legal standing to sign, but until her grandfather was notified the doctor could overlook the technicalities to assist her. At this rate, they could have Berthold Hawkeye in the ground by noon the next day.

In fact, Berthold was buried the following day just after two in the afternoon. Roy stood in his full military ensemble and Riza wore a simple knee-length black dress. The sleeves were a little loose on her slender shoulders and Roy thought it was odd that every time it so much as slipped a bit, she quickly repositioned it. Almost in a panic, but he said nothing. They stood by the bare wooden casket for a couple of moments, no tears or words just them and the silence. There was a gentle breeze that blew through the trees and rustled her hair. She turned around and walked away when she felt it was appropriate, she assumed Roy would want a few moments on his own.

It was sundown when Roy finally returned to the house. Despite what Riza had told the doctor their neighbors did find the death of Berthold sad (that is, for Riza) and when Riza returned from the old cemetery there were a couple of the women of the street with dishes prepared. It was nice to fill the house with noise other than the slow chimes of the grandfather clock in his study. Abigail had been one of the last to leave with her baby bump leading the way as Roy crossed the threshold. Their encounter was polite, but as Abigail turned to walk out, she couldn't help but say; "Roy… don't screw it up this time."

He pretended not to know what she was talking about. He pretended he didn't know what the little tick of hope was in his chest. He was so good at pretending, but as he stepped into the kitchen and found Riza with a cup of tea -light milk and a touch of honey, he realized he couldn't pretend anymore. He sat across from her and let out a long sigh while he scrubbed at his face with his hands. "I'm sorry your trip was ruined."

He looked up at the blonde and smirked, "It wasn't, it wasn't the best but, I got to see you again and I'll be able to make sure you're taken care of before I leave."

"And you didn't get the answers to your questions then had to help plan a funeral." She let out a brisk laugh, "You'll be the envy of all your friends back on base."

"Well, perhaps they will when they realize I got to spend the majority of my time with a beautiful woman in an empty house." He winked and wiggled his eyebrows and she couldn't help but laugh. She stood up and took her empty dishes to the sink and when she finished rinsing hers, she turned to lean against the counter.

"Let's go upstairs."

Roy choked on his bread and almost fell out of his seat, he sputtered out a pathetic reply, "Wh-what? Riza… I was, I was just kidding! Oh my god… your father is already rolling in his grave and he hasn't even been there for a day."

"Don't be such a baby," she walked towards him and held out her hand, "do you trust me?"

He gulped and nodded and took her hand. He let her pull him to her room and yanked on his collar and tie as she shut the door. She turned and leaned against it and stared at him, her eyes trailed his body with a fire he'd never seen before. He always regarded her with a halo of innocence. He sighed and sat on the edge of her bed, he would be damned if she saw how his hands shook. He relaxed immediately when she walked forward and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"I trust you too Roy…" and he watched as she stepped back and turned around and he had arguments ready. He had words to tell her and reassure her that she didn't have to do this and with him of all people. He had wanted to reassure her that he was understanding of her situation and that she was probably lonely, definitely lonely, but her body was something she shouldn't have to use to fill those voids. Then he heard the gentle brush of fabric fall to the ground and he squeezed his eyes closed, he counted to ten and relaxed.

He saw red as he peered at her back, literally and metaphorically. He shook with rage as he pressed a gentle hand to her back, and he flinched when she did. He wasted no time in stripping from his crisp blouse and he noticed his hands had started to shake once again as he wrapped her in his clothing then arms and his voice cracked when he demanded to know what the hell it had been that was rested on her back.

She told him, in a cool calculated voice that her father trusted her with the secrets of his research. The only way to keep it safe was to place it on her. A physical weight she had to bare along her spine and Roy squeezed her tighter when she let out a sob because Berthold trusted her, but the only man she had ever trusted was Roy and she needed it handled. Roy wasn't sure if it was him or her that led them to the ground, but he sat with his back against her bed frame with her nestled safely in his arms and he whispered that it would be alright. He pressed kisses to her hair and forehead, and he begged her to stop crying and told her again and again that everything would be ok.

Hours seemed to have passed and still, the pair sat wrapped up in each other on the floor before she finally found her voice. "This research belongs to you now…"

"I didn't want it like this." He felt her adjust so that they were looking into each other's eyes. "Riza, what he did? That is unforgivable and if that's the only way to get my answers I don't want them."

"You may not want them, but you need them, Roy." She gripped his face between her hands. "I don't know where I'll be by the time you're ready to return back to base, but I do know that you didn't waste your time here for nothing."

He reached for her hands and held them softly, her words echoed in his mind. She was completely correct, this could very well be the last time either of them sees each other. Though that concept already caused his stomach to flop and heart to clench, he couldn't prevent the inevitable. He had hoped, prayed even, that her mysterious grandfather would have made his presence known before the death of Berthold. His thoughts plagued him, he craved the knowledge that was withheld from him, the answers that he needed to pass the State Alchemist exam would allow him to start making a difference. He could be one of the reasons the blasted war with the Ishvalan people would end, but the information was literally attached to his dearest friends' skin and he felt like scum to utilize what his deranged teacher left behind.

"Alright, we'll work together on this, but if we don't make any ground by the time my leave is up, we put to it rest and I reach my goal another way." He gagged, he hated how sensible, stubborn and wise she was. She'd never lead him down the wrong path, she kept him out of trouble with her father for years and pushed him to be and do better. If she believed he was worthy of this opportunity, then he must have been. There would be no way to repay her.

"Everything will work itself out."

He raised an eyebrow at her strong reassurance, "You seem awfully sure of that."

* * *

Time was a funny thing, a concept made up and controlled by man. A man said that the hours and minutes would move regardless of one's state of being, regardless of one's distress or success. A man said that time moved fast and that things could change in a second, but then, why did it feel as if time had stood still? Every minute of every hour, in every day of another week -turned month, the time never seemed to move any faster. It weighed on her shoulders heavily, how long had it been since her last break? An hour? Ten? It felt like a week had gone by since a relief team had allowed her the chance to rest. She scoffed, rest meant eating unsubstantial meals and laying on cold cots with thread-bare blankets that left rashes on the skin of her neck. Rest was sitting around a fire in the scorching heat of the evening and pretending that things were okay, that the work they were doing was just and right. Rest was ignoring the screams of the innocent in the crevice of the mind to attend a prayer service that was meant to bring peace to the lackeys in uniform.

Rest was not a good thing, especially for the likes of Private Riza Hawkeye, who had established a gift for sharpshooting. In fact, she had established herself so well in her training days that she had accelerated through her programs and found herself graduating with distinct honors at record speed. _Honors, right,_ she thought as she picked through the dying embers in front of her. The only reason they wanted her out of training was to utilize her skill on the battlefield and she was happy to serve, happy to be a part of something much larger than herself. She had been a fool. Her grandfather, who had thankfully taken her in after the death of her father, had objected to her involvement with the State Military from the beginning. His voice now rang through her head during the rare quiet moments of the night.

"War changes people Riza, you don't leave the war zone the same person you entered as." General Grumman, one of the top commanding officers of the East City headquarters of the Amestrian State Military, had spoken words of wisdom. Though Riza found her grandfather to be… odd, he was a sweet and caring man. She had wanted for nothing under his care and he never pressed for details of her childhood with Berthold. He had a soft spot for Roy too and would always slip bits of information on how he was doing to Riza, in a code of course, because that was Grumman.

He cautioned her, told her to keep her talent a secret, to stay out of the mainstream flow. She had done so, until target practice and at first, her instructors thought it was luck. After consistent practices with 100% accuracy and no variance, it was clear to most everyone that her skill was not luck. It was near impossible from there, Grumman tried to pull his strings, but the more Riza thought about it, the more she had wanted to take the opportunity presented to her. Shooting and killing a human was much different than a target, as she had soon discovered on her first patrol. She didn't hesitate, she didn't miss, and she didn't lose her cool until hours later. She had been found with her hands pressed against the wall of a demolished building and hunched over as she coughed up whatever food was left in her system.

The hand that had reached for her and the voice that rang out wasn't like some of the others. It was softer, friendlier and when she had turned to take the heat for displaying a moment of weakness, she was shocked to see concerned brown eyes behind thin glasses. He introduced himself as Maes Hughes, no rank, just Maes. He was an intelligence specialist and was working alongside the State Alchemists to liberate the people of Ishval, though he didn't sound happy by his tone of voice. She had wanted to ask if he knew Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, but she didn't want to raise any questions or distract him. Instead, she thanked him for the water and apologized for the state she was in.

Maes had taken her under his wing from that point, he got the intel for her patrol routes and schedules. He did thorough screenings of everyone in her unit and whenever they were both on base and off duty he stuck to her side. His concern was that she'd get wrapped up into the wrong circle, her skill was impressive and needed. The State Alchemists had become targets and although they were profoundly skilled individuals, they were still too vulnerable on the streets. Sharpshooters would be in demand and she was the best of the best, even if she was just a private. Later, in their time as comrades he admitted that he hadn't stumbled upon her by accident, she had been on his radar and he wanted her on his team. She accepted and was moved to the State Alchemist camp the next day, her new squadron assignments hadn't been released yet, but she hoped she'd get to stay with Maes.

She hadn't been at the camp for more than an hour when her tent flaps were ripped back violently, and a strong deep voice vibrated through her very being; "Just what in _the fuck _are you doing here?"

She turned and saluted, "Sir, Private Riza Hawkeye reporting as ordered, sir."

He rolled his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and stormed past her. Though the tents weren't overly large there was enough room for four to six cots at a time, though presently, she was the only one assigned to that space. "Of all the stupid, irrational, pig-headed-"

"Sir, is this really necessary?"

"Quite Private, I'm ranting." Roy let out a frustrated growl. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here on orders Sir."

"How did you end up here, as in this campsite on this base in this godforsaken country?" Roy proceeded to pace around the empty space in the tent, Riza was equal parts annoyed and amused though she wouldn't say anything about it. "Tell me the state didn't draft you after I left, those bastards!"

"Sir…" He continued as if he hadn't heard her, "Sir… sir!" He stopped and looked at her and she wanted nothing more than to smile and reach out to him, but their roles had changed, and their lives were different now and she'd never been able to do that while in uniform. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted, I guess…" he sat on the edge of an empty cot and rested his forearms along the top of his thighs.

"I enlisted well over a year ago by my own choice." Riza took a small step towards the man in front of her, "The state never took claim of me, my grandfather showed up the morning after you left and gave me a pleasant life." another step and that time she uncrossed her arms from your chest, "I was reassigned to this particular base because I'm a sharpshooter and I was recruited by an intelligence specialist working with the State Alchemist team."

Roy laughed darkly; "Maes wasn't joking, you're really the Hawks' eyes?"

Her nose crinkled at the use of the name play, how much more uncreative could they get? "No, he wasn't joking. Is that really what I'm called?"

"Must be," he threw himself back on to the cot with his arm over his face and groaned, "...since when are you a sharpshooter?"

"I've always had great eyesight."

"There's more to it than that, don't play dumb."

"Alright, when my grandfather took me in I was surrounded by the culture of the State Military and I took a liking to the shooting range. Turns out, I'm pretty good."

He peeked under his arm to watch her, she didn't sound overly thrilled about her talent in fact as she had said it, she hugged her left arm closer to her body and stared at the cold floor. Roy couldn't blame her, he had been in the same position for the last couple of years. To utilize one's talents for the kind of destruction that they were responsible for? It sickened him to think about and he could tell it sickened her just the same. He had never imagined that the girl of his childhood would be the woman before him. He had never imagined her to be involved in something as brutal as war, he always imagined her safely tucked away from the chaos -as someone he could return home to.

"Grandfather says this is unbecoming of me."

"He's right, it is completely unsuitable for a lady like yourself to be in this place."

"Roy." She sat down across from him and kicked his shin. "Be serious, what else was I supposed to do?"

Roy heaved himself up to nurse the sore spot on his leg (he'd have to check for a bruise later); "Anything but this, also kicking a superior officer is grounds for punishment Private."

"Sir, my apologies, Sir," Riza smirked at him as she sat down and God did, he had missed that smirk and her presence around him (and her the same). "This is supposed to be the war to end all wars, truthfully I hadn't been prepared for much else even though Grandfather tried."

There was silence between the pair, and it stretched for quite a length of time. There was nothing Roy could do now that she was physically in front of him -literally and figuratively. Flashbacks to the last night he had spent with her raced through his mind, the gentle almost kiss, the way her body responded under his fingers (to trace the ink along her back, of course) and suddenly his bones ached. He's always wanted her, from the time she first asked what he liked to eat to the present, but he's never been worthy enough or able to have her. He admitted to himself years prior that he had run away, not only to prove himself (to spite) his teacher but to distance himself from the woman Riza was becoming. It had worked great, until he found her in the pits of hell, in a cold tent set up much like his own with the other State Alchemists.

Riza wouldn't admit it, but she suspected that he knew, there was more to her compulsion in enlisting. She had tried desperately for years to forget him, yet, at any given opportunity she always chose the path that would lead herself back to him. It was sickening. Her father must have rolled in his grave the day she pledged to her uniform, imagine if he had found out and known it was all because of his riff-raff causing student. She'd never be able to tell him that, he'd blame himself for the position she's in, though it may be partially true, it wasn't entirely his fault. She was just relieved she had found him alive and apparently in good shape. She let the silence drag on a little while longer, content to have his presence near her again. As she was about to disrupt their peace a familiar voice announced his presence.

"Hey, Hawkeye, how ya' adjusting so far? Need any... Oh… was I interrupting anything?" Roy groaned and threw himself back once more and Riza sighed into her closed fist. "Roy, you sly dog I knew you'd find our newest team member attractive."

"It's not like that Maes…"

"I mean, who wouldn't? Besides myself as my beautiful lady awaits my return, tell me Riza, do tall men with dark hair attract you? Did you fall for his wit?"

"Sir, that's not… what?" In his excitement, Maes continued to badger and press the pair, with their sputtering and denials in the background. He had started to float around the seemingly empty tent and teased until the trio found themselves laughing. _It felt good to do so_, Riza thought to herself.

"Maes, I'd like you to meet Private Riza Hawkeye."

"I already know her Roy, or did you miss the part where I recruited her for our team?"

She rolled her eyes at the men as they bantered then sighed in amusement when her name finally processed to the energetic intelligence specialist; "Oh… you meant as in Berthold Hawkeyes' daughter."

"The one and only." she quipped back through a yawn, "I think we should call it a night, we have a patrol tomorrow and I'd like for our leader to be well rested and clear-headed."

"Agreed, we'll be tracing a small rebellion group through the heart of the city. We're going to need to be always alert. Private Hawkeye will be between both you and Kimblee, once we hit the center of the square she'll get set up in the tower."

"Heard, Captain." Riza stood and stretched as the men collected themselves, Maes left the tent a minute before Roy did, so Riza took the opportunity to say what she had wanted to. "It's good to see you, Sir, I won't let you down out there."

He turned and smiled softly, it felt like the end of an era and yet a new beginning all at once; "I know Private, rest up."

For months their missions went smoothly, and their team came back intact. For months it appeared that things were clearing up, the end of the war appeared in sight and things were seemingly less complicated. Though Roy and Riza had wanted to reconnect and catch up over the missed time it was near impossible. Their ranks had put them in different social groups if one could call dinner in the mess hall and fire pits social. Maes had expressed concern at the pair rekindling their friendship because that's all there had ever been between them, a State Alchemist -a repulsive man really, Kimblee had started to notice and question the pair. Though none of the trio (Maes, Roy, and Riza) could really stand or tolerate Kimblee and his blood lust for violence in the battlefield, they had to respect their standings.

Then, one day in the middle of winter almost eight months since Riza had been moved to the State Alchemist base camp, hell opened back up. Winter in Ishval was not like winter back home, it was cold and dry winds that carried sand for miles during the day and deep freeze temperature drops at night. The mess hall had turned into a bunk hall at one point, but the weak seals along the windows and doorways only protected the soldiers from so much. There had been rumored talks of peace that sparked little pieces of joy in all the enlisted men, while the State Alchemists approached the topics with caution. Rebellion groups had seemed to disappear, and civilians were beginning to return to their homes, as it turned out, many of the patrol days were spent helping the civilians rebuild their homes.

It happened on a standard patrol, Riza had found herself in Kimblees' squadron for the day. His favorite thing to do was pick on Riza, she was a woman doing a man's job, she was weakly hearted towards the enemy, she was weak in the knees for her commanding officer and yet she had never expressed that towards him. She remained unphased, the man was a pig and there was nothing she could do about that. He liked to pick on the weaker people, and he was always reminding everyone of his talent in alchemy. There had been multiple times that he had instigated conflict simply to destroy life, it made Riza gag. Their patrol had gone smoothly, it bored him, and he had to burn off the excess energy.

Riza watched as he targeted innocent lives and played with them when a little boy had come running out of his torn-up home. It happened in slow motion, the child had a weapon and was headed towards Kimblee and Riza knew that if Kimblee turned around that child would suffer. Deep within her mind, she also knew that he would see her gun was not raised, like his other subordinates, that she was not prepared to kill a child and she feared there would be repercussions. When the single shot rang out Kimblee turned to see Riza, her rifle as she lowered it slowly and then the screaming. A woman that broke from the line Kimblee had formed ran towards the corpse of her son, still warm and eyes open. Riza choked back the bile that rose in her throat and hid the shake in her hands when Kimblee laughed and congratulated her on doing her job. She watched as he then slaughtered the remaining women and children in the square.

"Hawkeye, set up in the tower before you lose your breakfast."

She gave no verbal response, as soon as her squadron spanned out, she crashed to her knees and dry-heaved, she never ate breakfast on patrol mornings. Though it had become much easier to eliminate threats to her comrades, the thought of ending an innocent life still ripped through her stomach mercilessly. She had three hours until they'd do accountability checks, she figured that would be more than enough time to move and bury the body of the young boy properly. His mother's body was unrecognizable after Kimblees' work, though Riza managed to find something of hers to bury with her son.

She missed accountability, her squadron couldn't find her in the square and the tower was empty. Kimblee wasn't concerned, weak soldiers like Hawkeye were expendable and he had voiced that same point when he reported one missing back on base. The Crimson Alchemist was on thin ice as it was, mutilating civilians were strictly against orders and many of his subordinates had stepped forward to express their distress over it. The hope would have been that he valued those on his team, but it was clear that he did not. It was the misfortune of Maes Hughes to have had to tell Roy Mustang of the missing sniper. As he had predicted, Roy did not take it well.

In fact, he had received multiple marks against him for attacking Kimblee from behind. Fists collided with faces, both walked away spitting blood and regrettable words. It was Maes that yanked Roy by the neck and reminded him that Riza was still unaccounted for. It was also Maes that helped him search the patrol area, undermanned and outnumbered in terms of weapons. And it was the young officer with the thinned wire glasses that had found her, hunched over a shallowly dug grave with a crude little wooden cross, "Hey you ok?"

Maes crouched down to the woman's level and took notice of the small stuffed animal in her hand, "Private Hawkeye, are you hurt anywhere?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Private, are you hurt?"

"Is this all there is?"

"_Fuck_," Maes cursed, "Roy! I've found her!"

"Not Roy, anyone but Roy… _please_."

Roy rushed around the corner and halted when he saw her shoulders shaking over the mound of dirt in the soft light of the sunset. He saw his comrades' hand on her shoulder and the look on his face, his gut clenched as he feared the worst. He stepped forward until he was directly behind her and he was amazed at how fully he felt her agony. The guilt that had simmered deep within him had burst through and the only thought that kept running through his mind was this was his fault. He clenched his fists as he stepped forward and then with unnatural gentleness placed his cloak around her shoulders.

"Alert Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong that we've found Private Hawkeye and will be returning to base." Maes saluted quickly and then left to do his superior officer and friends bidding. When the pair was alone Roy crouched down next to Riza. "Private Hawkeye, I need to know if there are any injuries?"

"I'm fine," he didn't retort but she could sense his look of disbelief. "If I hadn't done it, Kimblee would have made it so much worse."

"Done what, what did Kimblee make you do?"

She laughed coolly; "He didn't make me do anything, I pulled the trigger, this-" she gestured to the ground wildly in front of her, "this, was all me. He was just a little boy."

"Riza…"

"If this is all our lives are good for what's the point?"

"Riza, stop. I know this is awful and I know-"

"You don't know anything, Sir."

The pair sat in silence until the sun had set and beyond that, the chill of the night dug into his bones as if he had been stung by hundreds of bees at once, but instead of the inflammation across his skin, it was raised hairs. He noticed that Riza had stopped shaking from her tears and that the quakes circling through her body were from the cold, though he made no additional move to warm her up. When he could hear the soft chatter of her teeth, he moved closer and without her permission or thought of consequence, he hoisted her into his arms.

It wasn't an overly long trek back to camp and she was light enough -too light if anyone had asked him, that he felt no pull on his back carrying her. She remained silent and small in his arms. As they returned Roy noticed that only one campfire was still lit, probably because of Maes and the duties of Roys' rank weighed heavily on his mind as he bypassed the fire and went straight towards the tent where Riza resided on her own. She was the only female sharpshooter that had been assigned to the aid of the State Alchemists and that standing did have its perks. He placed her on her cot and then sat next to her, his hands hung limply between his knees and he kept his eyes on the ground before him. He felt her body slump against his and he checked to see if it was exhaustion or shock that made her pass out only to find her brown eyes clear and bright as always.

"Tell me something Roy," her voice was cracking, like she had spent the majority of the afternoon screaming, "is it still your life mission to create peace for the people?"

He remained silent for a moment, he contemplated his answer. Though the evidence that surrounded him pointed in the opposite direction of 'peace' his ideology of what the world could be and his part in it hadn't changed, not really. "It is, I believe that peace among the people is still possible and I'd give my life to see that through."

She sat up and turned to face him, "I would do the same to see it through, it feels wrong, but I truly believe there's happiness in this world."

"It shouldn't feel wrong, happiness exists and one day you'll find it again."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You don't think you'll find happiness in this world?"

Roy let out a dark laugh; "Riza, look around you we're at the threshold of hell and the brutality is because of people like me."

"See, that's the problem!" Riza jumped up and stood directly in front of Roy with her arms crossed across her chest, for a second, she resembled the same young girl he once knew. If it weren't for the fire in her eyes, he'd say they were identical. "You don't think you deserve something, so you'll go and ruin it every chance you get."

"I'm not ruining anything!" though he didn't stand at his exclamation, standing would have brought them too close and he knew he wouldn't be able to turn away. "I'm speaking in plain truth."

"I'd follow you into hell to see your goal though because I believe in you that much the least you could do is believe in yourself."

"Well I'm not asking you to follow me into hell, although here you are and welcome." she quirked an eyebrow at his thick lay on of sarcasm, he could see the muscle in her cheek twitch, "Until my goal is reached I don't need happiness, I need something that will keep me on the right path. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I need you…"

"What?"

Roy knew he had shocked her; her arms now slack at her side had proven that much and ever the romantic he was he reached for her hands. The callouses that lined her palms and fingers were more defined than when they were children even though they had always been there. "You're the only person in this world that would put a bullet in my skull if need be, but you're also the only person I'd trust to hold that power and stand behind me.

"You've trusted me to guard your back and now I'm asking the same of you. I've wanted you for a long time Riza Hawkeye, I'm aware of those implications and I'm aware of how much trouble we can get in, but I can't ask this of you if I'm not completely honest. If losing whatever chances, I had with you means that you remain in my life as my drive to achieve my goals then so be it. My dream is only because of you, because of how unfairly the world treated you and how kindly you treated it in return. A peaceful world is the only world I'd want someone like you to live in and I'm sorry that I've let you down, that you followed me to this place where peace is…" he stopped and then released a long breath, "... this war was never meant to touch your life, it would be the dark burden for me alone, but here you are and-"

"I want you too," she cut him off and gripped his hands tighter, "I've wanted you since you first showed me kindness as kids. I want you to stay in my life for as long as possible, I want you to succeed because _God_ if anyone deserves to succeed from this war _it's you_. I've asked so much of you already and you think what you're asking is too much," she could feel the emotion build up within her, though she tried her hardest to push it back and away, "I'll do whatever it takes to help you succeed, but I'm going to ask you one more thing."

He felt his throat constrict as he brought her hands up to wrap around his neck as he pulled her body closer to his. He felt her fingers play with the stray hairs at the base of his neck as he let his thumbs rub against her sides, even though the thick bulky material of her uniform he could still feel her in her entirety. He had prepared himself for every possible question, he knew this moment couldn't go much further, he'd never be able to fully make her his and he had accepted that, but to torment himself with a brief taste? That wasn't necessary. Though when she spoke next, he realized how truly unprepared he was for the whirlwind that would always be Riza Hawkeye.

"I want you to remove the most significant piece of the array from my back."

* * *

Years later, after the world had calmed down just enough, Roy found himself serving under one of the most promising Fuhrers' that Amestris had ever seen. His standing was remarkable for his services to the people of Amestris, though most notably among his team it would be his sacrifices that earned him his mark as General. He had fought in battles much larger than himself and lost great friends along the way. He had struggled with his sins and his past, as many of the remaining State Alchemists had. He had lost his sight, though that period was dark (no pun intended) he had overcome it with the same grace and leadership that he's always held. He had lost many things, but never her.

Even though sometimes the smell of burning flesh still causes him to jump at night, as he remembers how her slender shoulder felt beneath his burning fingers. The way she bit into the small rag she had available with a cold sweat along her brow would pop up in his thoughts from time to time. How her body naturally tensed underneath his warm touch and how much it pained him to consider himself on the level of her father. Although, she liked to remind him that it wasn't all bad. In the days that followed he treated her tenderly, changed her dresses, held her hand and placed light gentle kisses along her face and neck. He swore that would be the worst day of his life, and then she was bleeding out in front of him.

The 'Promise Day', as history named it, could still cause his hands to shake. Her blood had been an endless pool that surrounded her and the last clear image he had of her was weak and frail as she demanded him to move forward. _As if he could ever truly move forward from her_, he scoffed whenever he thought about it. During the days that followed Roy had to remind himself multiple times in a day that she was alright, she was right beside him as she always had been. Just like in Ishval, during the death of Maes Hughes and onward… just like at night when the world stilled around them.

Roy turned under his sheet, he gently traced the scar that went up to her neck. It was faint and thin, but it was still an angry mark against her persons that she should never have had inflicted upon her. Just below the crease in her skin, he could feel her steady heartbeat, her deep and even breaths reminded him that she was sleeping. It wasn't often she slept a full night, her own trauma often kept her up -much like his, but she always tried for him. If he announced he was tired (he usually wasn't lying), she'd be quick to follow and never protested even as it took her hours longer to fall into a fitful sleep. He inched himself close enough to inhale her scent and pressed a light kiss just between her relaxed eyebrows.

"You should be sleeping."

He startled at her voice; "Geez, Riza… you don't have to scare me half to death."

"It's just so fun to do so." She smiled softly as she pressed her lips to his in a small chaste touch. That was Rizas' style, soft and simple. Roy had always been the aggressor in their affection, he had been the one to pull her to him once the slice in her neck was sealed and again in the hospital. It was he who crashed their lips together in a haphazard mess in front of her grandfather, as he abolished the law on fraternization. And at that moment it was him that pulled to his body, hands tangled in her hair as he accidentally kicked Black Hayate off the bed.

"Watch the dog."

"I love you."

They spoke at the same time, as they often did and laughed as she snuggled up to his chest. Life wasn't perfect, it was far from it. Life was dark and uncertain at times and it had knocked them both down equally. It challenged them and at times left them seeking more. Nightmares were frequent and unpredictable, but so was the laughter that filtered in and out of their office surrounded by their men (closest friends). They had suffered and had been taught that good things aren't meant to happen to people like them and they learned that it wasn't their fault when things went wrong.

Together they had said goodbye to their pasts, to Berthold although the town where his body was buried was inherited by new generations that never knew of the strange man and his recluse daughter. They said goodbye to their losses, to Maes once peace was found to tell him his death wasn't in vain and to his family as Gracia had opted to leave her city life for a more peaceful trek for her only daughter. Together they said goodbye to their sins, as they helped restore the country of Ishval, the body of the small child Riza had killed was never found again, but a grave was formally placed regardless.

Together they moved towards their future of peace and happiness, a long way from bland meals and unfulfilling soups.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, that wraps up my first FMA one-shot! As always feedback is welcome and appreciated. Some minor points I'd like to address; I tried to keep general information as close to "real life" as possible. I've indicated as such by referencing the conflict in Ishval as the "Great War" (please see World War One) and German military ranks. It's a personal headcanon -though I believe it's been confirmed, that the series would take place in Germany somewhere between 1900 and 1939. I also did my best to edit this, I use three different editing tools, but honestly by the time I went put the rough draft through there was no way I was about to rewrite it (with all of the corrections) to create the final draft. Stay posted for a "Ghosts that we Knew" update! **


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